CHAPTER XVII.
Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidum ferient ruinæ.
Horace.
At last the day arrived, when, exposed to a public
trial, Matilda was conducted to the tribunal of
il Consiglio di Dieci.
The inquisitors were not, as before, at a table in the middle of the apartment; but a sort of throne was raised at one end, on which a stern-looking man, whom she had never seen before, sat: a great number of Venetians were assembled, and lined all sides of the apartment.
Many, in black vestments, were arranged behind the superior's throne; among whom Matilda recognised those who had before examined her.
Conducted by two officials, with a faltering step, a pallid cheek, and downcast eye, Matilda advanced to that part of the chamber where sat the superior.
The dishevelled ringlets of her hair floated unconfined over her shoulders: her symmetrical and elegant form was enveloped in a thin white robe.
The expression of her sparkling eyes was downcast and humble; yet, seemingly unmoved by the scene before her, she remained in silence at the tribunal.
The curiosity and pity of every one, as they gazed on the loveliness of the beautiful culprit, was strongly excited.
"Who is she? who is she?" ran in inquiring whispers round the apartment. No one could tell.
Again deep silence reigned—not a whisper interrupted the appalling calm.
At last the superior, in a sternly solemn voice, said—
"Matilda Contessa di Laurentini, you are here arraigned on the murder of La Marchesa di Strobazzo:
